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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Ah, you are Broad Church!" said the curate. "Very well, be it so," said the vicar good-humouredly; "I'm not ashamed of it, so long as you allow that I'm at least a Christian." "What is Broad Church, Mr Mawley?" asked Bessie Dasher, who was suspected of having tender feelings towards the curate, for she generally deferred to his views and opinions.
Take 'em off for a bit of a second and you'll have his mawley well on your nose at once. Now, your left arm and fut in advance, not too much; keep your body square to the front. Your right arm across, guarding what we calls the mark, that's just above the belt, where the wind is. Let your left play up and down free, your foot and body moving with it graceful like. That's better.
Surprise and extreme pleasure were mingled with the respect with which Mawley ushered them into the drawing-room; and he almost ran to apprise Sir James of their coming. Sir James was at the moment wondering very anxiously whether he would find Mrs. Dangerfield on the bank of the stream that evening watching her children fish.
One nice little boy feebly retorts; but alas! his correct pronunciation; his grammatical exactitude, and his moderate epithets only provoke a scream of derision from the vulgar little boy, who now rapidly changes his tactics. Staggering under the weight of his vituperation, they fall easy victims to what he would call his "dexter mawley." A wail of lamentation goes up from our street.
If Mr Mawley had been meditating anything of the sort, I would have been his first confidante! I don't think there's a word of truth in it, Frank, no matter who your informant was.
I have never seen this definition given anywhere; consequently, as it is but my own private opinion, you need only take it for what it is worth." "Thank you, Mr Lorton," said somebody, giving me a gratefully intelligent look from a pair of deep, thinking grey eyes. "Oh, indeed! so that's your opinion, Lorton?" put in Mr Mawley, as antagonistic as ever. "So that's your opinion, is it?
Here, on shelves which lined the room from floor to ceiling, she saw the books which Brian Wendover had collected for his own especial pleasure, and the neatness of their arrangement and classification told her that the master of Wendover Abbey was a man of calm temper and orderly habits. 'You'll never see a book out of place when he leaves the room, said Mrs. Mawley.
The rooms in which she roamed at will were the public apartments of the Abbey, and, although beautiful in her eyes, they had the stiffness and solemnity of rooms which are not for the common uses of daily life. But on one occasion Mrs. Mawley, the housekeeper, in a particularly communicative mood, showed her the suite of rooms in which Mr.
I am so glad to see you back again, my boy: you have just come in time to help us. I was really afraid those nasty Frenchmen had eaten you up, you have been such a long time away!" "I dare say there's enough left of him," sneered Mr Mawley the curate. He was the direct opposite of the vicar; and a man whom I cordially detested, the feeling, I believe, being mutual.
"Hush, my dear boy!" she said, in her soothing way, as if she were stroking me down the back like she stroked her tabby Tom one of the mousiest and most petted of cats. "You should not speak so of a clergyman, my dear Frank. Think what the vicar would say if he heard you!" "Oh, never mind Mr Mawley," I said, somewhat petulantly; "I want to know Mrs Clyde."
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